


The Devil's In The Details

by TheNotoriousBecchi



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Mental Health Issues, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28330548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNotoriousBecchi/pseuds/TheNotoriousBecchi
Summary: A detective mastermind - C -  comes out of retirement to help an old colleague solve the biggest serial killer case in history: the Kira murders. Nothing is ever as it seems, however, and C begins to question the reality she lives in.
Relationships: Amane Misa/Yagami Light, L (Death Note)/Original Female Character(s), L/Yagami Light, Yagami Light/Original Female Character(s)





	1. An Old Friend

December 22, 2003

Freezing wind whipped across the parking lot of California State Prison as a woman in blood-red heels and black aviators sauntered toward the entrance. She pulled her cashmere scarf over her nose and mouth and frantically put out her cigarette on the sole of a shoe. A guard approached her at the steel gate surrounded by barbed wire fence, and she flashed him an Interpol ID badge from the deep pocket of her trench coat. With a curt nod from the guard and a blaring _beep!_ overhead, the gate swung open, and the woman walked down the short path between the gate and the concrete door of the prison.

“Been a long time since you stopped by, ma’am,” a husky voice came from behind the help desk.

The woman cocked her head to the side and brushed her blonde hair across her neck, sunlight glinting off her lenses. Seated at the desk was a wide man with a handlebar mustache and balding hair; he kept his prison uniform and badges polished and wore a dusty brown cowboy hat.

“He’s in cell block 9, right, Red?” asked the woman. Red shivered slightly, caught off guard by how rich her British accent was. It had been over a year since she last visited prisoner B-2TN586. He was a man who answered to several names on the outside – including B, Backup, and Rue Riyuuzaki – but his true name was even more bizarre: Beyond Birthday, or BB for short. BB was responsible for the Los Angeles BB Murders in the summer of 2002. Frederick “Red face” Jackson grew pale in the cheeks as a chill crept down his spine, wondering why a petite, svelte woman like her would want to visit with someone as notoriously disturbed as Beyond Birthday.

Red cleared his throat and nodded. “Go down the left hallway, past security. At the entrance to the cell block, flash your badge – you won’t be searched a second time. Good day to ya.”

The woman nodded almost imperceptibly and proceeded down the hallway towards the security checkpoint. She had made a point of keeping her outfit simple when she got dressed that morning and leaving her usual purse behind, opting for carrying a simple black leather clutch around her wrist. She breezed through the security checks in about a minute flat, and briskly made her way down the left hallway towards cell block 9. The guards all looked at her with wide-eyed reverence, keeping their gaze lowered. At the security checkpoint before the cell block, she put her clutch in a locker and flashed her Interpol badge again

“Go ahead, miss. Welcome back,” said the young woman at the bag search table.

“Thank you,” the blonde woman said, the corners of her mouth turning up into the beginning of a smile as she was escorted through the door to the psychiatric ward. Everything in the wide, open room was a different shade of grey, and the cold hung in the air. Dim lighting gave shape to dark grey concrete flooring, light grey walls, steel stairwells, and steel bars on cell doors. There were two floors of cells, with a guard stationed at each end of the hallways. Amidst the faint murmuring behind cell doors, the harsh _click_ of the woman’s heels reverberated throughout room as she took long, billowing strides toward the end of the lower hallway, following the female guard’s lead in silence. She glanced down at her pin badge, reading the name Gonzales. At the second-to-last door on the left side, she stopped and touched the barred window with a pale hand.

“Bill will be standing by in case anything suspicious happens,” said Gonzales, motioning toward the officer at the end of the hall. “Let us know if you need anything. You’ve got fifteen minutes.” She tucked a piece of black hair back underneath her officer’s cap as she slid a key into the door and turned it. The tumblers of the lock rattled and the door creaked open.

The blonde woman entered and stood just in front of the door and closed her eyes. She could hear Gonzales’s footsteps grow fainter as she walked back down the hallway. With a deep, ragged breath, she opened her eyes again, and finally saw the man she came for.

Prisoner B-2TN586, Beyond Birthday, was crouched in the upper left corner of the cell, with his knees pressed against his chest, idly twirling a piece of scraggly black hair above his left eye. He was dressed in white prison garb that covered almost every inch of visible skin except his face – he even had white fingerless gloves on his hands. Though the single lightbulb in the room was dim, his face was still visible behind the shadows. Scabbed second-degree burns covered three quarters of his skin, except a diagonal line from his left cheekbone to the center of his forehead. His right eye was missing, the space covered by a white eyepatch. Most of his hair remained, save for patches on his right side and the back of his head. It was permanently disheveled, even before his accident.

“Who is it this time?” he asked, his deep airy voice reaching across the room. “Another shrink? A defense lawyer, perhaps?” He never kept his one good eye off the strand of hair between his thumb and forefinger.

The woman took a seat in the bolted metal chair on the opposite side of the room and slid her glasses down the bridge of her nose, revealing two gashes: one on the bridge of her nose, the other just above her right eyebrow. “It’s me, dear. _See_?”

His dark red eye met her steely blue gaze and he smiled maniacally, throwing his head back against the cell wall. A bone-rattling laugh sprang from his chest, as if his diaphragm hadn’t been used in a thousand years. “Well, if this isn’t a pleasant surprise, old friend. I must admit, the wig color is so jarring that I had completely blocked out the memory from the last time we spoke.” He leaned forward onto the balls of his feet and placed the tip of his thumb between his teeth.

Folding her glasses and setting them on her lap, the woman chuckled before speaking again. She scanned him, from his deep pitted eye down to his curled toes. “You haven’t changed one bit, B. Still a caricature of him right to the nervous ticks.”

“What do you want from me?” he asked, leaning ever closer, never blinking.

“I want your insight,” she replied, twiddling her thumbs as her hands started to tremble – the nicotine from her last cigarette was wearing thin. “Your unique abilities may finally come in handy.”

Slowly, he took his nail out of his mouth and let his arm go limp, his scabby hand grazed the floor. “Go on.”

“See, I know you stay updated on current events somehow, be it through the television or books. Even the lowest scum over in solitary confinement have access to media.” She took a deep breath, “There’s a case happening in Japan that I know you would die to be a part of. Hell, you may already have fantasies of meeting the perpetrator somehow.”

He smiled again, baring pointy yellow teeth. “What makes you say that? I have no chances of meeting anybody that interesting anymore. I’m rotting away in this glorified coffin.” He got down on his hands and knees and crawled toward her, all lanky limbs and jerky contortions. “Who do you think I’d want to meet so badly?”

She placed one foot on his closest hand gently and scowled. “There have been a series of murders across Japan that have all resulted in prisoners dying of heart attacks for which the authorities can find no cause. They haven’t been able to find any leads on the killer, and his motive is also unclear. Though we know nothing about this killer works, he has been given the name Kira. According to authorities, if Kira is not found soon, his murders may spread worldwide.”

B formed his mouth into a perfect ‘O’ and gasped. “You are right, I have heard of Kira. A terribly interesting fellow, indeed.” He twirled his hair again and gave a short chuckle. “I would love to meet him, even through death. I fear there is no natural rival to beat his scheme.”

“Tch,” the woman flipped her hair back, “your morbid curiosities are what brought you here in the first place. You weren’t born with proper instincts like self-preservation.” Her narrow gaze and her hard voice softened; it became almost soothing. “Though you disgraced us, you are still a part of the family, B. You know Watari would not assign you a letter if you could be discarded.” She paused and bit her lip. “Truth be told, he feels awful about what he did, how his program made you -”

“Snap,” he interjected matter-of-factly. “He needn’t worry about that. I don’t blame him at all for my circumstances. I solely blame myself and L for the way we both turned out.” He looked up at the lightbulb hanging in the middle of the ceiling, eyelashes fluttering like the wings of a hypnotized moth. “I realize now that I shouldn’t have wanted to die for someone I was forced to become.” Abruptly, he cocked his head to the side, almost touching his shoulder, and stole her focus once again. He separated each phrase with a quick glance upwards, as if he were reading a teleprompter above her head. “I doubt he has much time left anyway. When I last saw him, he looked pretty thin. On the other hand, you’ve still got plenty of time to enjoy your freedom.”

“And what makes you think that?” she leaned forward, grasping his bony chin.

“It’s the numbers, C. The “unique ability” you spoke of earlier.” He bent his head down and slowly licked the side of her pointer finger. “Or do you still believe that to be the ramblings of a madman?”

She jerked her hand away and pushed him back with her outstretched foot against his sternum. “Cut the bullshit! That isn’t what I was referring to. I meant your uncanny ability to see into the minds of sadistic killers, your expertise in human anatomy and crime scene investigation. You know damn well the numbers are a hallucination.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” his voice froze. “Did you know that I’ve been tested by over a dozen doctors since I came here? My brain has been subjected to rigorous psychological tests – most of which I outsmarted after the first glance – and not one of them has found any sign of insanity. In fact, the doctors have told me quite the opposite.” He let out another wheezing laugh, jerking uncontrollably with each breath. “I’ve always had a natural fascination with death, and I can sense when one’s time is nearing. How do you think I was able to pull off my own murders so precisely? It wasn’t just stalking, my dear.” He sat back against the far wall and brought his knees back to his chest. “My eyes are a curse.”

“Do you truly believe you have some sort of supernatural gift?” the woman named C asked, crossing one leg above her knee.

“Yes, and I think your man Kira does too,” he quipped, nibbling on his thumb again. “It’s plain to see that he has a God complex based on his victims alone: they’re all in prison, therefore beneath him. He is most likely charismatic, but all together ordinary on the outside. Perhaps someone living a perfectly ordinary life in the public eye. Yet, he has an unnatural aura to him that lures people in and they drop like flies. You said there is no evidence left behind, yes?”

C nodded her head.

“Based on what little information has been released to the public, I’d actually say all the evidence needed has been laid at every scene.”

“How could that possibly -”

“The heart attacks. Kira is inside them somehow, controlling their last moments down to the last heartbeat. How that is remains to be seen, but that’s the only plausible explanation. I was not lying when I said I fear Kira. No “rational” detective work is going to solve this riddle, mark my words.” B ran his hand through the thin strands of his hair and for a heartbeat, C frowned, remembering the man he so closely resembled.

“How is the girl doing?” he added, pulling C out of her thoughts.

“What girl?”

“Naomi Misora,” he said in a sing-song voice. “The woman who saved my life, but sadly did not deter you from smoking. Tsk tsk, old sport.” B waggled is finger in front of her nose and smirked.

“Very funny,” she jibed. “She’s doing fine, got married to an agent recently. She wonders about you from time to time. I would too if I had to work alongside someone as ghoulish as you.”

“How considerate of her,” he whispered. His eye blinked for about two seconds, and C gulped involuntarily. “And L?”

“He is around,” C’s voice was flat. “He and I don’t always work together.”

B’s eyelid twitched. “Ha! Tell him to watch his back.”

Before C could open her mouth, the cell door was open and officer Gonzales beckoned to her. “C’mon, your time’s up. I bet you’re dying for a cig right about now.” C laughed and stood up, brushing off her trench coat and putting on her aviators.

“You’re right, thank you.” She took one last look at Beyond Birthday before stepping over the threshold.

One week later

On Sunday, December 28th, the national newspaper headlines read: **LOS ANGELES BB KILLER, BEYOND BIRTHDAY, FOUND DEAD AS A RESULT OF A HEART ATTACK IN CALIFORNIA STATE PRISON.**


	2. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> C receives two unexpected phone calls while on a much-needed getaway...

Line One: 8:45 PM; Arashi, Aruba

Two sets of burgundy-painted toes peeked from beneath the foamy layers of pink bubbles as steaming water roiled in a marble jacuzzi overlooking the silhouette of Arashi beach. The window was cracked open and the musky smells of salt and sand mixed with the flowery scent of coconut from the half-empty daiquiri on the windowsill and the occasional whiff of wine-cork smoke from a cigarillo. On the far side of the room, the sliding door facing the beach was open wide and paisley patterned curtains swelled with the incoming waves. There was a faint dusting of sand scattered about the floorboards, a hot pink flip phone on the ledge of the tub, and a crowd of tea lights on the sink illuminated the room.

_Hufff…_

Another puff of smoke rolled out the window as C stared at the Nokia flip phone. It had been twelve hours since the death of Beyond Birthday, nine of which were spent sitting on a flight from Los Angeles to Aruba. Once she arrived at her usual resort, The Eagle’s Eye, she threw her luggage and clothing onto the bed and leapt straight into the bath, getting used to the feel of her own body again as she leaned back, letting damp cascades of dark curls stick to her face. She glanced at the phone again, waiting for the green LED lights on the screen to pulsate. The usual phone call was coming, but this time, it would be interesting. C rolled the wine-flavored cigarillo in her hand and licked her lips, savoring the rare indulgence.

_Brrring! Bring! Brrrring! Bring!_

C breathed out smoke as she snapped the phone open with a flick of the wrist and pressed it to her ear. Her words, almost imperceptibly slurred, rolled off her tongue like velvet as she spoke.

“Hullo, Naomi. I take it you read the news?”

A soft voice replied, “Yeah, B is dead. I have a hunch it was Kira’s doing.” C could make out a sharp exhale on the other line and could picture Naomi Misora’s stern face. She only wore it when she felt outsmarted – only when she worked on the most challenging cases. C smirked as she recalled their time as colleagues during the BB Murders case; Misora never let her guard down, even in crime scenes that can only be described as grotesque freakshows. Bodies laid out in intricate death traps, clues that contained references so obscure that only the killer could know their full meaning, a mathematically calculated timeline, and attempt at self-immolation resulted in an almost-perfect crime. As C acknowledged in her written press-release after Beyond Birthday was captured by Los Angeles police, the keys to solving his self-indulgent mystery were FBI agent Naomi Misora’s steel resolve, and her exceptional mental flexibility under pressure.

“I thought the same thing,” C breathed. “I was able to collect some useful intel from him. I did not anticipate staying in LA for that long - not during my holiday.”

Naomi chuckled. “You told me you stay in the tropics until your boredom clears up. Aren’t you thankful I’ve been enlisting your help, even if it is on behalf of my husband?” There was a drop in her voice as she hummed out a breath.

“Ah, yes. You’re Mrs. _Penber_ now. Gone are the days of Misora Massacre!” A line of smoke circled C’s head as she waved her hand theatrically. 

The line fell silent for a few seconds before Naomi replied, annunciating each word to the last syllable, “You know I hate it when people use that stupid nickname.” There was another short pause. “Anyway, I called because I have two questions.”

C reached for the small copper ashtray on the windowsill and rolled the stub of her cigarillo until it was a pile of brown ash, and she raised an eyebrow. “Go on, then.”

Naomi cleared her throat, but her voice was shaky. “First of all, what information did you pull out of B? I’m surprised you were able to get anything coherent.”

“Aside from his usual nonsense about using supernatural abilities, he told me a rough analysis of Kira based off news headlines,” C said. “He thinks Kira is able to control his victims’ deaths in their entirety… perhaps through some type of biological weapon.” The line of bubbles began to reach her chin as she sank further into the warm froth of her bath. “B also believed that Kira probably makes a point of looking innocent in his daily life, therefore making him a most difficult suspect to catch.”

“Sounds pretty reasonable to me,” Naomi replied. “I’ll have to dig further. If you’re ready for it, I’ll move on to my next question.”

“Hm,” C grunted.

“Would you be able to provide me information regarding L’s whereabouts?”

C set the phone on the windowsill and submerged her head in the water for a few seconds, focusing on the pounding jets. When she surfaced, she grabbed the phone again and said, “Why? Is everything alright?”

C counted the sound of ten waves crashing against the nearby shore before hearing Naomi’s shaky reply, “Raye was killed at a subway station yesterday. I know in my gut that Kira did it, and the signs of Raye being targeted were right in front of my face for weeks. There’s a suspicion that I haven’t been able to confirm yet, but I know it will solve everything once I get the chance to talk to L. The information B provided you gave me more confidence to do this. Raye told me he’s got a task force working on this case in Tokyo. I have to tell him the leads you and I have been able to come up with over the past month.”

C gulped the last swig of her daiquiri before answering, “I don’t know where L is, but I can direct you to the Tokyo Police Department headquarters. Tell them you’re affiliated with L and ask if they know any information about the Kira Task Force. It is my understanding that the Task Force has been kept a secret from the Japanese media. Knowing L, he probably picked up a new temporary cell phone since he arrived in Japan, so contacting him directly will be impossible, even for someone who knows him personally.” She circled the rim of her glass. “Pardon my inquiry, but what do you plan to do if your suspicion proves to be true?”

“I can apprehend Kira. If you don’t hear from me in 48 hours, assume I’ve been killed.” There was a faint sniffling on the other line, and C’s bottom lip began to quiver. “You understand, right?”

“Yes, I do. Good luck,” C replied before the cut out, replaced by white noise.

Line Two: January 1st, 2004, 6:00 AM

Wind wafted through the hotel room, carrying the rejuvenating chill of a new year. Dull traces of light could be seen on the horizon outside the sliding door, and a discarded bottle of Moscato lay beside the writing desk. C sat in the creaky swivel chair with one knee pulled up to her chest, hunched over her sleek MacBook Pro. Her luggage was packed in case she would have to make an unexpected departure. The hot pink Nokia was clutched in her left hand as she scrolled through lists of flights to Japan on an Expedia page; on a separate tab, she was reading news headlines, looking for potential cases to pick up. A fresh Newport cigarette hung from her mouth as her eyes swam over the screen. _I should’ve heard from Naomi last night,_ she thought, idly opening a sudoku app on her touchscreen, _and once the Task Force catches wind of her death, their next move will be…_ she shuddered, taking a sidelong glance at that damned phone in her hand. _Why can’t I sever my connection completely? We both swore capturing B was our last assignment together._ Her thoughts were immediately cut off as the phone’s screen displayed “UNKNOWN NUMBER” against a bright green light.

She snapped it open and pressed it gingerly to her ear. “Hullo?”

A distorted British accent came through the other line, an accent she instantly recognized despite the attempted censorship. “’Nevermore’.”

“’Quoth the raven,’” C replied evenly.

“We have just received news that the former FBI agent, Naomi Misora, died yesterday afternoon, by apparent suicide. L requested me to reach out to you for assistance in the investigation. You are, of course, not obligated to join us. I’m simply following orders.”

“Watari,” C breathed, “you don’t have to pry me to come. I saw this coming, and I’ve already made the necessary arrangements. I do, however, have one question before I go.” The cigarette hissed as she stamped it out on the ashtray next to her laptop. “Why does L need my help? I know he is more than capable of finding Kira himself.”

A raspy cough on the other line made her arms break out in goosebumps. “There are plans which require your...”, he drawled, “I believe the phrase he used was ‘up close and personal tactics’”.

“Ha! I expected something clever,” C mused, slamming her laptop shut and sliding on her blood red heels. “Never mind that. I’ll be there tomorrow night, in the usual hotel. You recall my alias, yes?”

“Cecelia Anderson.”

“Good, old man,” she replied, then snapped the phone shut before muttering, “Sayonara.” She took her blonde wig out of her suitcase and slid on a pair of aviators before stuffing her laptop into her suitcase. The wheels hit the hardwood floor with a thud as she dragged it off the freshly-made bed, then sauntered out the door. Two doors down the hall, she entered a small media center and printed her flight tickets in a flash. She rolled her suitcase toward the reception desk undetected, and the short plump woman behind the desk gasped when she noticed C standing in front of her. Customers didn’t usually check out of the resort until at least 9:00 AM.

“Did you enjoy your stay, Miss Anderson?” the woman asked, smiling warmly, the way a relative would.

“Most certainly, Maria,” C replied. She held out the room key between her fingers and dropped it in Maria’s outstretched hand. With a _swish_ , C turned on one heel and went out of the resort, into the pastel haze of an early morning.


	3. King, Queen, Knight, and Rook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a red-eye flight to Japan, C is reunited with estranged family members, whom you may have heard of before...

January 3rd, 2004: 6:15 AM; Tokyo, Japan

The flight from Aruba to Japan had been sleepless. After hours of reading online journals and drinking copious amounts of caffeine as a substitute for her usual cigarettes, C’s nerves were sputtering as she maneuvered her way through the maze of Narita International Airport. She pushed her aviators up into her blonde wig and squinted at terminal signs, adjusting to reading Kanji. Once outside the airport, she walked up to the first cab parked out front and greeted the small elderly driver with a curt, “Good morning, sir. I’m only going a few miles away. Shouldn’t be too bad for such an early drive.”

The door to a yellow taxi eased closed and the driver took his place behind the wheel. Outside the tinted windows glowed the blue and white lights of the airport terminal. A morning talk show played on the car’s radio. The hosts were discussing the latest antics of a popular reality TV channel in Tokyo, Sakura TV. C took off her heels and leaned against the black leather seat, allowing herself the chance to relax as the radio DJ’s voice said with a quiet lull, “We’ll be back right after this commercial break. Stay safe on the roads for those early commutes, folks.”

“Could you tell me your destination, ma’am?” the driver croaked. Through half-shut eyelids, C noticed the man’s wrinkly eyes were just within the rear-view mirror, framed by thick, half-moon glasses. His face unreadable, he kept his hands latched onto the bottom corners of the steering wheel.

“The Imperial Hotel, please,” she replied. **_“Arigato.”_**

C closed her eyes and focused on the sound of the tires on the road as the driver proceeded. Occasionally, flecks of light would slip through her eyelids and the tires would go silent more often, indicating they were in a more populated area of town. The voices on the radio grew lively as time went on, and before C had time to think about how much time had passed, the car was turned off and her eyes fluttered open, blinded by harsh yellow lights overhead.

“Do you need help carrying your baggage?” the driver asked.

C sat up and slipped her feet into her shoes. “No, thank you, I’ll be fine. Here’s my payment – you can keep the change.” She dropped some bills on the center console and swung the door open. The chill morning air sent a shiver up her spine as she hoisted her suitcase out of square trunk and gave a polite nod to the driver inside. He wished her a pleasant stay and drove off.

January 3rd, 2004: 1:00 PM

C stood on the balcony of her sixth-floor hotel suite smoking her usual cigarette and wearing her blonde wig, thick black leggings, and a white turtleneck underneath a black jumpsuit. Snow floated to the dark streets lazily as bundled figures rushed on, going about their daily business. She rubbed the sides of her feet together as she lounged over the guardrail, one elbow resting on it while she talked her cell phone.

“He has an entire _floor_ reserved,” she asked, with a chuckle. “Always was a show-off.”

An old man’s distorted voice came through the Nokia’s speaker. “Yes, he has reserved the entire eighteenth floor for this investigation. The primary room we are staying in is 1825. You will be meeting us there for lunch?”

“I presume so. Am I going to meet with the rest of the Task Force as well?”

The man on the other line paused for a moment, and C tracked an airplane as it descended over the Tokyo skyline. “You will meet with them later this afternoon. For now, you will just catch up with L and I.”

C sighed and pushed herself off the cold railing. The warmth from the hotel room suddenly became far more inviting. “Alright, Watari,” she stepped inside and slid the glass door shut. “Tell him I’ll be there in five minutes, au natural.”

“Certainly,” he replied, then the line cut off.

Stretching her arms above her head, she took off the wig and lobbed it onto her unmade king-sized bed. _No need to take off the “Do Not Disturb” sign just yet,_ she thought as she adjusted her dark curls in the oval mirror on her bedside table, shoving her feet into a pair of high-topped sneakers that lay underneath it. _Not like I’ll be using this bed much, now that I’m back to work._ She reached into a small drawer and took out a pair of round horn-rimmed reading glasses and a small bottle of skin concealer. Taking a quick glance at the digital clock on the table, she grabbed her black clutch off the back of her chair, stuffed the concealer and Nokia inside it, and headed out the door. The elevator across the hall announced its arrival with a bright, _ding!_ and she stepped inside.

An instrumental version of _The Girl from Ipanema_ played in the otherwise empty elevator as she ascended the floors. The walls shook as the elevator stopped at the eighteenth floor and opened its doors. A sign on the wall read, **Rooms 1800-1815 to the left; 1816-1830 to the right**. C walked down the right side of the hallway until she reached room 1825, right next to the vending machines. She rapped on the door three times and was greeted almost instantly by a tall old man dressed in an Armani suit; he smiled knowingly as he opened the door.

“Welcome back, C,” his voice reverberated in the dim, quiet room. “Take a seat on the sofa.”

The suite was modest, with gray-blue carpeting, white curtains on the main window, a square mahogany coffee table in front of a plasma-screened television set, a grey sofa, and a door leading off to the bedroom on the left side. There was a smell of stale coffee and powdered sugar that held high in the air, and from the corner of her eye, C spotted a tower of cupcakes on the kitchen counter. On the sofa, a man crouched with his knees to his chest, bare toes gripping the edge of the cushion with a mop of black hair hanging over his face as he stared into a magazine. He wore a long-sleeved white shirt and a baggy pair of jeans. The stark difference between him and the old butler would make anyone raise a questioning eyebrow; C just smiled and sat cross-legged on the nearest seat cushion, tapping the man’s bony knee.

“Oi! You done looking at pictures of pop idols?” she asked, peering to look into his orbital, baggy eyes.

“I am, now that you’re here,” he said distantly. “We can head down to the café in the lobby or Watari can make us lunch here. It’s your choice.”

C quirked her lips. “We both need fresh air – you especially, with those raccoon eyes of yours.” She stood abruptly and gave him another tap on the shoulder. “I’m quite enjoying being able to act natural.”

The man looked at her with a new hardness to his gaze, as if he encountered an unpleasant surprise. “You’re not covering up?” he bit his bottom lip. “Strange.”

“I don’t see you hurrying to put on a disguise either. Times have changed, L”. C strode toward the door while L slowly stood from the couch.

“Right,” L grabbed his room key off the coffee table. “Call me when Chief Yagami schedules the meeting, Watari. We’ll be back in plenty of time.”

Watari nodded and said coolly, “I won’t hurry you, sir.”

L opened the door and ushered C out, letting it close on its own as they walked down the hall. His bare feet shuffled against the carpet as he hunched beside her, keeping the same hard expression on his gaunt face. When they reached the elevator, he spoke so softly that C’s arms broke out in goosebumps.

“I hope you’re in for a long ride,” the elevator doors slid open. “The investigation might be the death of us.”

C gulped and stepped inside. “It already crept into my comfort zone before I was called here.”

“Hmm… yes,” L bit his thumb as he watched the numbers descend on the button panel. “I figured as much, after reading Beyond Birthday’s death announcement. And as for Naomi Misora,” he lowered his gaze, “the Misora I worked with was strong. She would not take death into her own hands. I believe she was searching for Kira and wound up in an unfortunate spot.”

“She did,” C mumbled, grazing a finger over a scar over her right eyebrow.

L put his hands in his pockets and straightened his posture ever-so-slightly as the elevator came to a stop. “You are unfazed, as I expected.”

“I’ll relay her message to you in her place,” C replied.

The elevator doors slid open again and they stepped out into the tiled lobby. A sign for the Imperial Café glowed from the left corner, shaped like a steaming cup of coffee. L and C briskly walked inside and took a seat at the rear corner, facing the bustling street. They folded their menus closed almost immediately after the café hostess had delivered them to the table. L broke the silence with his usual collected voice.

“Tell me how much you now about Misora’s recent events.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! :3 Happy 2021, everyone! Hopefully we will see more of everyone's favorite detective very soon - and maybe some Kira action as well.


End file.
